Tribute to Richard Griffiths
by Phaxsoone
Summary: In memory of Richard Griffiths. Harry returns to Privet Drive after years of no contact, and he is there for Vernon's last moments.


**Author's Notes**: In memory of Richard Griffiths, 31st July 1947 – 29th March 2013. RIP. Huge thanks again go to 'Lugian Before Swine' for beta'ing.

_**The two most prominent moments to happen between Harry and the Dursleys**_

**I.**

Harry's feet were planted firmly on the ground as he stood out on Privet Drive in the darkness, anticipating what would happen when he walked up to No. 4 and rang the doorbell timidly.

He stared through the weathered window pane, watching the happy scene unfolding. Aunt Petunia was scurrying in anticipation towards the central oak dining table, a dirty orange casserole dish in hand. The front room Harry had known to hold many prominent memories – Mr Weasley blowing the room apart; Professor Dumbledore making himself at home, summoning Kreacher, the elf Harry had inherited from his godfather many years ago – was now gone. A new, bright, cheerfully decorated dining room had taken its place. The room was as un-Dursleyish as Harry could possibly imagine.

It was Christmas Eve, and Harry had felt an aching pain to return to his childhood dwelling. Though it had never been a place of comfort, it had provided a roof over his head constantly for the first eleven years of his life, and then for the, albeit unpleasant, summers he was forced to return home. He'd left his current family home on the outskirts of London and taken the knight bus to his Aunt and Uncle's home in Surrey.

Sat at the antique dining table was a considerably aged Uncle Vernon, his moustache and hair thinning noticeably. He was still as round as ever, his sides falling over either side of the chair. Eyes were instantly drawn to him; he was the most noticeable 'thing' in the room. He was genuinely smiling, one of the only times Harry had seen him grin out of choice.

Dudley was there too; he had definitely lost weight since Harry had left home all those years ago. He was laughing, ruffling the bronze hair of the small boy beside him. He had some of Dudley's features, and he too was laughing. Harry could guess he was about 3 or 4 years old and he was a very cute little toddler.

Opposite Dudley was a very pretty woman with bleached blonde hair and finely lacquered nails. She was probably a few years younger than Harry and Dudley and she was looking at the small boy affectionately and exchanging frequent proud smiles with Dudley. Aunt Petunia stopped by this woman, placing a hand on her shoulder comfortingly. The woman looked behind her, smiling at Petunia.

Harry could tell from this simple scene that the Dursleys had changed. Their re-decorations showed that they had more joy in their life; the traditional family scene showing some close bond shared by the extended family. Harry felt a surge of pride. He had never in the past and could never in the future call them family, but they were the people he had spent his youngest years with, and he was happy to see how they had changed. Surprising himself incredibly, a tear slipped down his cheek. He had never felt any emotion other than hate towards the Dursleys, and this was the first time he'd seen them since he'd left. He had never experienced something like this before, and he didn't really know what to think of it. He turned around, planning to leave; yet he stopped himself. He needed to do this. He needed to say thank you, before it became too late.

He turned, wiping away the traitor tear, and walked purposefully towards the door of no. 4, Privet Drive.

He lifted the knocker once, twice, three times. He waited, half expecting them not to answer.

But then, a twiggy figure with grey hair appeared the other side of the glass in the door. She called something out to her family, marching forward and opening the door.

She took a step back as she recognized the person standing on the doorstep, making a small noise of shock. Her hands flew to her mouth, her face contracting in frowns of surprise.

"Hello," Harry said. She didn't reply; she was utterly gob smacked. "Um, can I come in?"

She came back to herself, the initial shock lessening. "Yes of course Harry, come on in."

She stepped back, placing a hand on the small of her nephew's back, guiding him through her front door. Harry was surprised. His aunt had never willingly touched him.

He walked through the familiar door, yet felt an unpleasant jolt in his stomach as he saw the new wallpaper covering the cupboard under the stairs. _His _cupboard under the stairs. Harry had to walk over to the door and run his hands over the wood; just to be sure it still existed. The wallpaper went straight over it, blending it in and locking everyone out. He could tell it would be near impossible to get into the cupboard now.

He spun round and looked at Petunia in shock. She looked away awkwardly, embarrassed.

The cupboard was gone.

It took a moment for Harry to register it. He didn't understand why it mattered to him, it just did. He had grown up under there, talked to the spiders, played with his few second-hand toys. He would never sit in there again.

"Petunia? Who is it?" a gruff voice called from the dining room, breaking Harry's reverie.

Harry looked back at Petunia, waiting. She walked forward, again placing a hand on Harry's back.

"Come on, dear. Let's go and meet your family."

Harry was too shocked to answer; he just let Petunia guide him through to the room.

As Harry entered the room, Dudley's fork clattered to the plate in surprise. The blonde woman looked round, obviously confused. Vernon stared at Harry, regret, embarrassment and pity but not surprise clouding his eyes. The small boy carried on as if nothing had happened.

The room was silent apart from the never-ending laughing of the small child. Then, the most surprising thing yet happened: Dudley got up from the table and walked around to Harry, grasping him in a tight hug.

Harry was hesitant at first, but then he wrapped his arms around his cousin. He smelled better than Harry could even imagine. His hair was clean, his clothes were clean and he was not even slightly overweight anymore.

"I'm so sorry," Dudley whispered into his cousin's ear. His voice was thick, as if he was fighting tears.

Harry rubbed Dudley's back comfortingly.

"Me too."

The cousins stayed in their embrace a little while longer, cherishing the moment. Harry didn't feel the hate he had always felt towards Dudley before; now he felt pride. He had changed, and Harry let himself take just a small bit of credit for that.

Dudley pulled away, wiping his tears. He turned around, addressing the woman and the small child at the table.

"Um, this is Harry, my cousin," he said with a sniff, "Harry, this is Erin, my wife, and–" Dudley could not quite get the words out, "and Harry. Our son."

This was a lot for Harry to take in. The tears didn't come; he was too shocked for that, so he just pulled his cousin into a tight hug again.

"Dudley, I'm sorry. I –. Thank you. Thank you, Dudley." Harry knew he made little to no sense, but felt he had to say something. He felt huge, inexplicable guilt.

Dudley looked at his cousin, his guilt evidently ten times more.

"Harry, no. It was me, it was us! We're the ones who should be sorry, not you, never you! We, well, I, was horrible to you, Harry! We were evil! So don't you apologise! We gave you the worst childhood ever, and we all feel so much guilt for that, Harry. I'm just so sorry," he finished.

"I'm sorry." Vernon spoke for the first time since Harry had entered the room.

"I'm sorry," Petunia said, crying.

Harry was so overwhelmed; he _did_ consider the explanation that he was dreaming. They were _apologising_, for the first time, to Harry. Harry knew it was deserved, but it was still a random act of kindness that was hugely appreciated.

"Thank you. You put a roof over my head, food in my belly; you clothed me. You have the decency and hearts to apologise for the way you did it, too. You have no idea how much this means to me, to see you've changed; it fills me with pride, you know," Harry admitted, his throat tight.

There was a long, tense silence. Harry had no idea what was going through the minds of those around him, yet he knew what he was feeling: happiness, pride, success.

"Harry, take a seat, let me get you some casserole," Petunia commanded, walking towards the kitchen. Harry did as he was told.

"Thank you, Aunt Petunia," he said instinctively.

She spun around, taken back. She moved back over towards Harry, tangling a hand in his messy hair.

"That's all right, Harry, dear."

Harry smiled, feeling that same sense of elation he got only with his very best friends. He saw his mother in his aunt. Though he could not remember her, the kindness he had often heard associated with her was now present in Aunt Petunia too. He finally felt like he had part of his Mum back.

**II.**

Harry, Ginny, Albus, James and Lily all powered on through the slanting rain to the local hospital in Surrey. Harry was on edge; his uncle had been rushed to hospital after a series of heart complications.

Once they got in the warm, they were directed to his ward, and they rushed there without hesitation. When they arrived, Harry went straight to Dudley at Vernon's bedside, leaving Ginny with the kids. He greeted Erin and Harry – his almost sister-in-law and nephew; Dudley was now like a brother to him – very briefly before rushing off.

Uncle Vernon was lying on the hospital bed, cheeks bright red, breathing heavily. He was awake, but obviously only just. Harry felt as if a rock had dropped in his stomach. His uncle was always in charge, always there for his family to rely on. Seeing him lying there helplessly was something heartbreaking to Harry. Petunia was with Dudley at his bedside, grasping his bloodless cold, pale hand.

"How are you doing?" Harry asked Dudley quietly, not wanting to disturb the strange sort of peace.

Dudley turned to look at Harry, containing the tears he could feel forming behind his eyes. Dudley's face was red and he was wearing his suit. He – unlike Harry – had obviously come straight from work.

"OK, actually," Dudley announced quietly, keeping his voice inaudible to Vernon, turning his back to his father. Harry hugged his cousin comfortingly.

"It'll be OK," Harry assured Dudley, somewhat warily.

"I hope so." Dudley's voice broke on the last word. He pulled away from Harry, avoiding his eyes, and went to stand with his family across the other side of the ward, hugging his wife.

Harry moved closer to the bed, smiling sadly at Petunia. She returned his smile, and then jolted suddenly as her husband stirred.

"Harry," Uncle Vernon croaked to his nephew. His watery eyes met with Harry's, regret burning holes through Harry's skull. "I'm so sorry, Harry."

"Uncle Vernon," Harry said quietly but sternly to the gravely ill man, "please don't apologise. You've been so kind to me these past few years; I really appreciate it. We all make mistakes; just some more than others, I guess. It's in the past now anyway; we can all forget about it." Harry smiled his weakest smile yet in Vernon's direction. He wasn't one to break down often, but he felt an uncomfortable, unfamiliar prickling behind his eyes.

"Before I die," Uncle Vernon wheezed, "I want you to do one thing for me."

Harry was taken aback by his abruptness, as was Petunia, who let out a small yelp, fresh tears streaming down her pallid face. Vernon looked at her pointedly, signaling for her to leave his bedside. She did so obediently yet reluctantly, crossing the room to stand with her son.

"Harry, come closer."

Harry did so, anxiously. Vernon grasped his hand with unexpected strength for a dying man.

"Harry, I have been so bad to you," he gasped. Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Vernon got there first, albeit weakly.

"Don't deny it; you know I have." He looked at Harry sternly. He waited for Harry's reluctant nod before he carried on.

"I have no right to ask you this, no right at all, but grant a dying man his wish, Harry."

"Whatever you want, Uncle Vernon, whatever you want, I'll do it."

Vernon chuckled. "Harry, you are so kind, so selfless; I never deserved to live with you."

Harry ignored this comment, not quite sure how to respond. After a long pause, Vernon continued.

"Look after my family, Harry; make sure they have a good life. Please," he begged.

"Of course. Of course, I will. They'll be fine, don't worry at all, please," Harry assured.

The old man coughed, then wheezed. His body was thrown forward, and he grabbed his chest, clearly in agony.

"DUDLEY!" Harry bellowed. He turned, his eyes meeting with Ginny's. She looked worried, anxious.

Petunia, Dudley and Erin came charging over. Harry held up a hand, asking Ginny to stay with the children; they didn't need to see this. She nodded understandingly.

Two nurses and a doctor came running into the ward, hurrying to Vernon's bedside. Erin and Dudley were holding each other tightly, comfortingly. Harry went to stand with Petunia; they both needed the support.

The medics began CPR, but Harry had a gut feeling this was it; he was on his way.

Harry yearned to retrieve his wand, to do something for his dying uncle, but he knew the price he'd pay for that would be enormous; it wasn't worth the risk. He knew that Petunia and Vernon had begun to accept his wizard heritage, forget it almost; ignore it. He wouldn't make them remember, especially if it cost Uncle Vernon his life.

The doctor signaled to a nurse, who then hurried the group of them out of the room, along with Ginny and the children. Harry grasped his wife's hand tightly, anxiously.

Everyone was worried about Vernon; Dudley was shaking, obviously very on edge. He looked young again, how Harry remembered him when he was scared, threatened – the dementors, Harry's petty attempts to scare him with magic, moments Harry had paid for dearly.

His eyes met with Dudley's, and Harry smiled, nodding soothingly.

After a very tense wait, the doctor left the ward to talk to the group, looking solemn.

"It's not good news, I'm afraid," he explained to the anticipated faces, "I'm afraid there's nothing we can do. If you'd like to come in, he has a few moments left."

Petunia recoiled in shock, clinging to Dudley. Harry led the way through to the ward, dropping Ginny's hand. They all rushed to Vernon's bedside, Harry grabbing his uncle's hand.

They waited tensely, listening to the unsteady rhythm of his heart. His panicked eyes met Harry's, one last time. The corners of his mouth tugged up into his last smile.

Then, the monitor beeped, signaling the end of Vernon Dursley's life.


End file.
